


Home

by HayamaRei



Series: Of Thieves and Family Bonds [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Getting Together, I honestly have no idea how this came to be, Loosely Follows Canon, Thieves Guild, but only where I felt like it, existential crisis and other fun stuff, the Dragonborn is a mess, the Dragonborn isn't happy about being the Dragonborn, understanding Brynjolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 18:04:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14699463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HayamaRei/pseuds/HayamaRei
Summary: The whole Skyrim believes Moira is the Dragonborn. Her husband believes she's the Dragonborn, so do her children. She almost believes it too. And technically, yes she is. She defeated Alduin, she saved Tamriel from destruction. But in her heart Moira is a thief, and it's time for her to go home.---Moira, the Dragonborn, was a member and Master of the Thieves Guild long before Alduin's return. Following her destiny of saving the world lead her away from the Guild, Riften, and her own identity. This is a series about Moira and her struggles to keep the balance between who the world believes she is and what her heart tells her.





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic in a series that follows Moira, her life, and her family. 
> 
> A short recap of what's not mentioned, but you should probably know:  
> After discovering she's the Dragonborn Moira married Balimund (the Riften blacksmith) in an attempt to be "normal", with children and a husband. She stepped away from the Guild but made sure to send in coin and spoils she'd earned by heroing. 
> 
> I'm sorry if this seems like a mess.

Moira descended the stairs into The Cistern with a heavy feeling in her chest. The place was empty, now that the living spaces were expanded into the Ratway chambers too. The rest that still had a bed in The Cistern were often away from it. Just like Moira herself. The reminder made her chest tighten even more. 

She still remembered how the place looked when she first set foot in it. Barren, with the only few members gathered around the single table. It was gloomy and the walls felt soaked with desperation. It was different now. There was colour in it, life. There was food on the shelves, better beds, tapestries on the walls. There was hope. 

Moira slowly walked to the center, savouring the feeling of being home. The Guild was her home. She sat on the edge of the inner ring, feet dangling above the water, and stared at the desk that used to be Mercer’s. Her desk. She liked to think she was putting it to a better use than the damned bastard ever did, but lately she wasn't so sure. When was the last time she even used the desk? The fact she couldn't remember was a good enough of an answer. She heaved a sigh.

It wasn't too long after that when the door to the Flagon creaked and footsteps echoed behind her. She didn't turn to look. 

“I thought I heard someone in here. Mind if I join you, lass?” Brynjolf asked and didn't wait for an answer before sitting down as well, giving Moira a calculating look. 

She gave him a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes in return. “You can't have heard me. I'm undetectable.” She pointed out. 

“Well, I must have a Moira detector then.” 

“Maybe.” Moira agreed and turned her eyes back on the desk. Her desk. 

They sat like that in silence for a few minutes before Brynjolf spoke again. 

“What's on your mind, lass?”

Moira considered the question for a long moment. “My life.” She said finally. “How I lost control of it.”

“You don't look like you have.” Brynjolf said, making Moira chuckle humorlessly.

“I have no idea who I am anymore, Bryn. Life keeps happening, keeps tossing me in different directions I never even wanted in the first place. Who am I?” She really hoped she didn't sound as desperate to him as she did to her own ears. Last thing she needed was to humiliate herself in front of her once-mentor. 

Brynjolf seemed to think it over. “You,” he finally said, “are a thief. Not just that. You're the leader of the thieves.” 

A year ago Moira would have said the same thing without a second’s thought. “Except I haven't been much of that lately.” She said grimly, eyes glued to the trophies shelf. “I dumped it all on you and Delvin and Vex.”

“We've dealt with it before.”

“That's not the point. I haven't been attending to my duties to the Guild as I should! This is my home and I've been neglecting it!” The pent up frustrations were starting to burst at her seams, spilling out into the the water underneath their feet. 

“It's okay, lass. I know life gets in the way sometimes. But the fact you're here now says a lot about it.” Brynjolf said calmly. “We know you care. You wouldn't bother to check in if you didn't. Or write letters and send us goods. You may have better places to be physically but we still feel your spirit here at the Guild.” 

A ball wedged itself in Moira’s throat at the man's words. “I didn't ask for this.” She choked out. “I didn't ask to be the Dragonborn. I didn't ask for people to look up to me. I came to Skyrim to be a thief. But then my life turned upside down. I was so lost. Everyone expected me to do what's right, to help, and I thought - This is a sign. The Eight want me to be something more. To be better. So I tried. I became a Thane, I helped people and I stopped Alduin. I married and I adopted children and I was the role model the people expected the Dovahkiin to be…” She trailed off, looking at Brynjolf with unconcealed emotion. 

“But it doesn't feel right.” He finished for her and she let out a shuddering breath. 

“No.” She admitted quietly and it felt like a weight being lifted off her chest. 

“Because your soul aches for the thrill of the heist.” He continued and she just nodded. “Then you are rightfully the Master of our Guild, lass. This is your home.” 

“How do you always know what to say?” Moira asked a heartbeat later, already feeling better.

Brynjolf grinned. “I used to sell fake potions on the market.” 

The words pulled a laugh from Moira’s lips and Brynjolf’s grin grew and he leaned closer. “Now that's what I like to see.” He said and bumped their shoulders. 

Moira swayed a little and then returned the bump, the smile on her face coming easier now. 

“I miss this.” She said wistfully, looking the other in the eyes. Something shifted in her gut. “Being here. Being a full time thief.” 

The look in Brynjolf’s eyes changed into something Moira couldn't quite place. “I don't think you've stopped stealing, lass.” He said quietly.

“What do you mean?” She hadn't been actively thieving since she became the Dragonborn.

“You've been stealing my breath every time I as much as think of you.” 

Moira felt as if the soft words were a shout hitting her body and knocking her backwards, but her body didn't move. She was still sitting on the cold stone of the floor.

When she didn't say anything the man spoke again, determination written on his face. “And I think I'll have to steal something back.” 

And with that he leaned forward, pressing their lips together. It was Moira’s turn to remain breathless. Something forbidden woke inside of her, something she'd pushed back and buried deep a long time ago. She kissed back and it felt as if the whole world was finally sliding into place. Every worry, all of her insecurities faded into the back of her mind until only the softness of Brynjolf’s lips remained, so different than Balimund’s.

Her thoughts screeched to a halt. Balimund. By Nocturnal, what was she doing? With great effort she put a hand on Brynjolf’s shoulder and pushed herself away. The man chased her lips but she stopped him.

“I'm married.” She whispered, looking in Brynjolf’s eyes once more with desperation. 

“I know.”

“He's a good man.” Moira realised she was trying to convince herself as well.

“I'm sure he is.” Brynjolf said and leaned in a little. She let him. 

“He loves the kids.” 

He cupped her cheek. “I'm not parent material.”

“He loves me.” She said again and closed her eyes when Brynjolf placed a kiss on her lips. 

“But you don't love him.” Hearing the truth both hurt and felt liberating. 

“He's good to me.” Moira still tried to argue, her morals and her heart fighting a war inside her. 

Brynjolf gave her a gentle look. “But he's not good _for_ you. He can provide for you but he can't give you what you need, can he? Does he even know you're in the Guild?” Moira averted her eyes at the question. “You're not a cage bird, lass. Can you really tie yourself down like that?”

Shaky breath left Moira’s lips. Brynjolf was right. She'd married Balimund in a moment when she was lost. When she felt like she needed to turn her life around and be the Dragonborn. He'd been good to her, given her security when she was certain of nothing, he'd loved the children and was someone who could take care of them when she was away. He was safe. But he didn't make her heart beat fast, he didn't send thrills up her spine. He wasn't Brynjolf.  
“I can't leave him.” She said finally, eyes begging even though she wasn't sure what for.

“I'm not asking you to.” Brynjolf replied. “I'm not husband material, lass. But we can both keep a secret.”

“Even from the Guild?”

The man chuckled. “I don't think they'll appreciate another secret going around with their leader. But I don't believe they'll be writing songs about it anyway.”

Moira laughed and this time it was her who closed the gap between their lips. 

What Balimund didn't know couldn't hurt him.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed ^^


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